


His Weakness

by mrsfizzle



Category: DCU, Smallville, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Dark, Evil Genius Lex, F/M, Good Person Lex Luthor, Heavy Angst, I swear it will make sense, Lex Luthor Being an Asshole, Obsessive Lex, Pregnancy, Protective Lex, Season/Series 06, Tragedy, Tragic Romance, the tags about Lex really seem to contradict each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:49:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26631643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrsfizzle/pseuds/mrsfizzle
Summary: There were two sides to Lex: the dark and the light. The darkness plotted to manipulate Lana to marry him by making her think she was pregnant; any good left in him failed to save her from the devastation. But what if it wasn't that simple? A season 6 head canon
Relationships: Lana Lang/Lex Luthor, Lex Luthor & Lex Luthor
Comments: 18
Kudos: 12





	1. Drug

**Author's Note:**

> I was trying to understand the whole fake pregnancy debacle of season 6, and my friend jakrar was helping me out by explaining events, but also pointing out a bunch of inconsistencies throughout the season. Why does Lex react emotionally to news of Lana's pregnancy and miscarriage even when no one is watching him? Why would he formulate a plan that would so inevitably fall apart in less than 9 months? Most of all, why would he literally throw himself in front of bullets for Lana on multiple occasions, but then switch to cold-hearted manipulation?
> 
> I told jakrar I had a theory that might explain what happened, but I didn't want to type it out: I wanted to write it as a story. Without further ado . . .

It must be two in the morning, but I haven't slept yet. Lana's tossing and turning beside me in bed. She's been doing that a lot lately. I'm sure she's asleep, but she doesn't last a full minute without thrashing around, pulling at the sheets and blankets. It's driving me insane.

_"She's not sleeping well."_

That's the voice in my head. It sounds concerned. It's not even talking to me; it's talking to itself. Leave it to my inner weakness to worry about _her_ sleep, when we're the ones she's keeping awake. I push back the voice, blocking it out—in general, it's getting easier to ignore it.

Tonight, though, it's forcing me to listen to it. _"How can she sleep well when she's sleeping with you?"_

My inner weakness sounds a lot like Clark, though I guess that isn't new. Clark thinks I'm a villain, and that I don't deserve Lana. I think he's misguided on both counts. The world has never been his black-and-white, good-and-evil delusion, where people deserve what they get and get what they deserve. And even if it was, I wouldn't be quite the hardened criminal he thinks I am. The weakness inside of me doesn't let me do much.

There was a time when Clark looked up to me. He thought I was a hero, a good man. Those were the days when my weakness reigned, and I was exiled to the back corners of my own mind. In those days, I was the voice in _its_ head. My weakness told Clark about me, calling me his Darkness, but Clark never took that seriously.

I swear I was never as annoying as my weakness is now. When it's angry with me, it swears it's going to take control again. Some days are better than others. Some days, it nags at me until I do what it wants. Some days, it takes partial control. And some days, it takes over entirely, and I'm shoved back into the deep shadows of my own mind. It's been awhile since that happened, though—maybe those days are behind me.

Lana thrashes around again, taking most of the blankets with her. I sigh.

_"She's going to leave you."_

She's not going to leave me. Clark lied to her every day for years—she's ruined enough of my shirts crying about it—and it took her as long as I've known her to get past him. Come to think of it, she still isn't entirely over him, as far as I can tell.

_"She's figuring out who you are. Do you think she's stupid? She has friends who know the truth about you."_

The truth. Staring at the ceiling in the dark, I roll my eyes.

_"I'd say you've got a month. Two, tops."_

It sounds far too pleased about that, which is strange to me, because I know my weakness likes her. I like her, too, but it's different. Having a girlfriend as pretty as her makes me look better, and she's brighter than she looks. It's obviously killing Clark, which is a plus. She's good in bed, too, better than I had expected. All around, a good thing for me. Honestly, though, it's not really about any of that. It's more a matter of pride. If I can't secure my own property, what can I be sure of?

I'd marry her, if she were willing. Not for life, of course, but for as long as it served me.

Lana turns over again. I double check to make sure she didn't wake herself up, then I get out of bed and leave my bedroom. I think better in my study.

"You like her." I don't say the words aloud. Even alone, I won't talk to myself. But I think the words. I might be mouthing them. I'm not sure.

_"I love her."_

"Then help me. You don't want to lose her any more than I do."

It's silent for a long time. At first I think maybe the voice will leave me alone now. But I can feel it thinking, and I remember those few times it asked me for advice when I was in the shadows. It startled me, enough that it took me awhile to form thoughts.

_"She'd stay with you if she thought she was pregnant."_

"I don't want a kid." My weak side obviously wants kids, but Lana isn't worth that.

_"She doesn't have to be pregnant. She just has to think she is."_

"What do you suggest?"

_"Drug her."_

I stop short at that, because it's not the kind of suggestion I've ever heard from this side of me. It's usually the side that would have me handing out money to every person who walks through my door. "Why?"

_"Like you said. I don't want to lose her any more than you do."_

"Pregnancy lasts nine months. What happens when she finds out?"

_"The miscarriage will drive her closer to you."_

"I dunno. Drugging is Dad's style, not mine." By that, of course, I just mean my weakness has always prevented me from drugging anyone. It can be terribly useful—my dad proves that on a regular basis.

_"That just means she'll never suspect you."_

It has a point. It's not a bad plan. The biggest problem I have with it is that my weakness came up with it, and I don't understand why. But I've long given up trying to understand that side of me.

Not really a problem. I'll hammer out details in the morning. In the meantime, I go back to bed. She's still tossing and turning, but at least my mind is at rest.


	2. Weep

A few weeks later, Lana finds out she's pregnant. It's taken me that long to devise the proper bribes for her doctor and administer the hormones.

I'm not as good an actor as I really need to be in my line of work. When accused, I try to avoid giving direct answers, whether I'm guilty or innocent. I always have. That's fine for dealing with Clark's accusations—once he's made up his mind, he won't believe anything I say anyway—but sub-par acting skills are a real barrier for dealing with a girlfriend who thinks she's pregnant when I know she's not.

My weakness is helpful with this, though. When Lana tells me about the pregnancy, I supply the smile, and it supplies the teary eyes. It doesn't say much, but I feel a bit of what it feels—some odd and overpowering mix of fear and regret and awe and joy and determination. Sometimes I wonder if it's somehow forgotten that Lana isn't really pregnant, but this whole charade was its idea, so I can't imagine how that's possible.

Maybe just the thought of having a child is enough to affect it emotionally. Or maybe it feels guilty. Whatever the case, the tears keep coming back, and I take full advantage of them.

My weakness is admittedly useful throughout the pregnancy as well. I'd never remember to constantly ask after Lana's health or do little things for her, like making her breakfast in bed. Admittedly, I never could have thought up the marriage proposal my weakness devises. Lana has to think about the proposal—big surprise, she's not over Clark—and my weakness suggests sending her to an art show in Amsterdam.

Her hesitation wouldn't bother me, except that it hurts my weakness, and the pain is hell. I never realized how much of a romantic that side of me is. I'm as mortified as ever that it lives in my head.

I'm playing the piano when Lana returns. The music calms me and impresses her.

"How was your trip?" I ask.

"Well, a small-town girl from Kansas in the Presidential suite with a stretch limousine at her beck and call . . . it was definitely a change."

I let my weakness supply the response, since I don't know what to say: "I'm sorry if you felt uncomfortable."

"Not at all. Actually, I thought it was amazing."

I'm back in my element. "Yeah, it's easy to get used to, isn't it?"

"Lex, there were two thousand people in line for that art exhibit, and suddenly the ocean parted, and I was escorted past everyone. I realized that money isn't just luxury, Lex. It's power."

That's what Clark never seems to understand. "And that power can be yours, too, now."

"Think of all the good we can do in the world. And I know exactly where I want to start."

She shows me a newspaper article about those migrant workers Jed McNally oversees. Lana believes I had no knowledge of anything that was happening on that farm. Clark thinks I murdered a ton of the workers. The amazing part is that I technically told no lies to either of them about the situation at McNally's farm, and yet they're both so wrong.

I try hard to smile when Lana suggests helping the workers, but aside from the fact that she's unaware of the role I did play in that situation, I'm busy fighting a different battle. Lana's nauseating tenderheartedness has a very inconvenient effect on my weakness. It's fighting me so hard that it's all I can do to keep it at bay. It wants me to take her into my arms and hold her and kiss her and make promise upon promise. It wants to sweep her off her feet and follow her to the ends of the earth.

I manage to force the weakness back. Maybe I shouldn't have asked Lana to marry me—having her around is dangerous. Not as dangerous as Clark's friendship once was, but her presence still threatens to turn me back into the pathetic, self-destructive, simpering imbecile I once was.

I'll just have to fight harder. What's life without a little risk?

Later in the week, Clark has the audacity to come by the mansion to try to talk Lana out of marrying me. "You really think you can convince her?" I ask him. "You think you can talk her out of making the biggest mistake of her life by marrying me?"

He remains as sanctimonious as ever. "We both know that you swept in after—"

"After you _crushed_ her?"

I'm startled by my own response, because that was my weakness talking, not me. And normally, it _never_ speaks a word against Clark. But it's doing well for me in this conversation, so I let it keep talking.

"You knew she was vulnerable," Clark says, "and you played her until she thought she was in love with you."

"If you really see Lana as that naive," I hear myself say, "you obviously don't think as much of her as I do."

"It must be eating at you that she's hesitating. Wondering why she hasn't given you an answer."

I take back over, because I don't trust my weakness to take that one—it's in too much pain to speak rationally. "I guess it would, if I didn't know what the answer was going to be. See, I highly doubt she'll say no, Clark, now that she's carrying my child."

I'm right, of course. Lana accepts my proposal shortly after. I take the backseat for that whole conversation—it goes off about not deserving her, and fills my eyes with tears when she finally says she'll marry me.

Letting my other half take the reins is unpleasant, but necessary. Now I know how my weakness must have felt all those times it was being blackmailed and threatened, and it had to let me help. It needed me then, just like I need it now.


	3. Lie

In the following weeks, I come to regret having given my weakness so much power. It thinks it can dominate me. I flutter into and out of control, my weakness taking the reins more often than it has in months. Part of the trouble is that I really don't expect Lana to show up to the wedding, and the uncertainty makes a coward of me.

Meanwhile, of course, Clark's convinced that I'm only marrying Lana to slight him, and that she's only marrying me because she's upset with him. Somebody needs to tell that kid the world doesn't revolve around him.

My weakness confides in my father that it's not sure Lana will come to the wedding. It's pretty obvious from the way my father talks that he plans on getting involved in that somehow, but no part of me cares to investigate my father's plans. I've been down that road before.

I'm back in control by the time I take the phone call from Lana's doctor. I meet him in the crypt. "Dr. Langston," I say, although I'm reasonably sure I know what's coming. "Is this about Lana? Is she okay?

"Oh, that's a bit ambiguous, after what you've done to her."

That's fair. "In a few minutes, I'm gonna be exchanging rings directly above where you're standing. What was so urgent it couldn't wait?"

"Trust me, Lex. I wouldn't want anything to come between you and your beautiful bride. For instance, the truth about her condition."

I was right about why he called me here. "For your sake, I hope I'm not understanding you."

"Consider it hazard pay for the dangerous, not to mention unethical, position you've put me in for months."

"And today's the day you hold the most leverage." I'm playing with him. I really enjoy the verbal judo.

"Wire two million dollars to this account, or Ms. Lang will know everything."

"I don't give in to blackmail."

"Oh, I think you will. No man sinks as low as you have if he isn't driven by desperation. Knowing what you've kept from her, I wouldn't recommend putting her love to the test."

Rage overwhelms me. I'm good with rage. "I won't let you take her away from me!"

I start beating him, punching over and over and over, bones crunching, blood pouring. It feels great. Hand-to-hand combat is classless, which is why I tend to avoid it, but the visceral manifestation of power is a rush. Call it a guilty pleasure.

Unfortunately, I can't really enjoy it much. My weakness is screaming bloody murder in my ear, the same way it did when I beat up Duncan Allenmeyer. It claws its way to the surface as the doctor falls back and hits his head, and it panics as the pool of blood grows, but I pull myself together for long enough to drag the doctor's body into a stone coffin and cover it with the lid.

My weakness is the one frantically scrubbing away the blood at the sink, but I'm the one who walks to the altar. I wait for Lana and worry she won't come, and when she does, I watch her walk down the aisle and take her hand. I make the vow, lying through my teeth, and I don't notice that my weakness is surfacing again.

But when Lana makes her vows, I lose control abruptly, and my lesser side takes over completely. It gently slides the ring onto her finger, mouths _Love you,_ and wipes the single tear from her cheek.

Gag me. I have to feel all the saccharine, cloying emotion it feels.

As the ceremony finishes, I can feel it starting to get protective of her. I hate it when it does that. It considers telling her the truth about her pregnancy, and I'm struggling to regain control, but I'm not really worried it will confess. It's a sentimental idiot, and it's constantly hurting over everything Clark did to us—I know because it makes me feel its pain some days, and it's excruciating—and the allure of being married to a beautiful girl who loves and trusts us is too much to let go. It's never been good with guilt, but faking Lana's pregnancy was its plan, not mine, and we're both determined to see this through to the end.

I'm starting to worry about the ongoing struggle for control between my weakness and me, especially now that Lana is my wife, but my salvation comes minutes after the ceremony, when my father slaps me. The slap splits my lower lip and stings like hell, but it snaps me right awake. By the end of the conversation, the weakness is back where it belongs, and this time it sticks. My old man's a bastard, but as he never ceases to remind me, I owe him a lot.


	4. Burn

As predicted, the supposed miscarriage tears Lana apart. She weeps bitterly and clings to me, and my weakness supplies tears for my eyes as well.

Hours after we return to the mansion, Lana hasn't moved from the nursery. The crying stopped long ago. She's staring off into space with an empty, broken expression. I've never seen her quite like this, not since she was addicted to the drug that let her visit with her dead parents.

I approach her with as much gentleness as I can, but I don't pull in my weakness to help me. It's already teetering on the edge with all of the air time it's been getting lately, and it's pretty emotional. I need to keep it buried, which means I'll need to get through this conversation alone, somehow. "Nell called," I say. "She wanted to know if you'd like some company tomorrow."

"I don't know." Lana doesn't look at me.

"Lana, you haven't left this room since we got back from the hospital."

"I like it here. I called Dr. Langston to tell him what happened. They told me he was killed in a car accident."

"My God." I kneel down in front of her and try not to show what I'm thinking—my gratitude and amusement that the cover story is holding, my weakness's horror at the whole situation. "That's terrible. When?"

"The day of our wedding. Lex, why is all this happening?"

"Some things in life are just . . . out of your control." It sounds lame, but it's all I've got. "Sometimes you have to let go and leave it in the hands of a greater power." Some guy said that to me when my mom died. It didn't help me, but maybe it helps some people.

"I lost our baby. I'm . . . I'm so sorry."

I stare deep into her eyes. "Hey. It wasn't your fault."

"I have to know for sure. I need to get my files from Dr. Langston's office."

"We will. Lana, how can I make—" my voice catches in my throat, because this whole thing is starting to make me feel sick, and I don't know if that's my weakness or not. I'm not a pansy about deception like my other half, but I don't like to see innocent people suffer. "How can I help make the pain go away? What can I do?"

She looks away, and I just hold her hand for awhile, but there's nothing I can do for her. Eventually I leave her.

When I'm sure she's asleep, I take her medical files out of my safe and call Dr. Albright. "Are you sure these are all of her files?" I ask.

"Positive, Mr. Luthor."

"Thank you for your help, Dr. Albright. And forget you ever heard of Lana Luthor."

"Yes sir."

I hang up and start to place the medical files in the fire. The ultrasound is the last to go. I take a long look at it before placing it in the fireplace with everything else.

My weakness doesn't take over. It doesn't force my hand or resist against me. It doesn't even speak. It just cries and cries—harder than Lana did when she found out about the miscarriage. I can't say I understand what it's crying about, exactly—I never could read its thoughts, but I've always been able to feel what it feels, with varying degrees of intensity. The emotion is so powerful that even though my weakness is buried and distant, I can feel the pain, and it's overwhelming. As the ultrasound burns, warm tears steam down my face.


	5. Strike

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter of the main story. Short epilogue to follow.

Our marriage lasts about two months. I'm surprised I get that long, especially after I find out my father's role in the wedding.

I'm on my way out when she approaches me. "Lex, we have to talk."

"We most certainly do," I say, "but it will have to wait. I'll be back tonight."

"I won't be. Lex, I can't live like this anymore."

It's about Clark. It's always about Clark. "Yeah, I don't blame you. Living a lie in a marriage you never wanted. It must take its toll after awhile."

"You're the expert. Setting up a nursery, an heirloom crib. The tears of joy in your eyes when you saw that ultrasound. What kind of a toll does that take, Lex?"

I can't rely on my weakness to supply the acting this time. This is the one time I've actually practiced in the mirror. The look of confusion on my face is absolute. It helps that I _am_ genuinely confused about how she found out the truth. "What in God's name are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the massive amounts of hormones that you injected into my veins to make me believe I was pregnant. What kind of a monster are you?"

"I don't know where you're getting your information from, Lana—" the truth "—but it's nothing but slander." The lie. "You know I would never—"

"Don't lie, Lex. It's too late for all that. This marriage is over."

She's used to forgiving people for lies. She's used to trusting again. I can salvage this. "Lana, I know I'm far from perfect, but you can't deny what we had between us."

"Lex, all there is between us are lies on top of lies."

I have no idea what to say to that, and I try to pull in my weakness, but it won't help me. It stands at a distance—I can't even feel what it's feeling. "Lana, everything I've ever done . . . it's because I love you."

"You aren't capable of love, Lex. You never were."

My weakness begins a quiet mantra in the back of my mind. _"I do love you . . . I have always loved you . . . I love you so much . . ."_

I ignore it, close the doors to the study, and turn back to face her. "It's Clark, isn't it? You never could get over him. Even if he is the greatest liar of them all."

"Clark means more to me than you ever will."

_"Run, Lana. Run, my love."_

The whole world slows to a stop.

RUN?

In my mind, I'm confronting my inner weakness. It's like looking in the mirror, but I don't even recognize the reflection, though it clearly recognizes me.

"This was your plan," I say in my mind.

_"It was."_

"You knew this would drive her away."

_"Of course I knew."_

"Then why would you suggest it?"

" _To drive her away. From you."_

"But . . ." I can't wrap my mind around it. "You love her!"

_"More than you'll ever know."_

We look together out at her. She's broken.

"Way to go, genius. Where's the love in this? You _hurt_ her."

_"Less than you would have if she stayed."_

That might be true. But if this is what love is, I'll never understand it.

Something's amiss, though. The look in her eyes—it's like she's testing me, like she's not sure. She's made no move to leave the study, not yet.

Maybe I can still recover from this. My mind races to find the right words. I'm ready to cradle her face and whisper the sweet nothings she's come to expect from me, to remind her why she loves me and trusts me no matter what the evidence says—

My weakness takes over. Not all of me; just my left hand. It slaps her across the face, hard.

She gasps and wipes away the blood.

 _"I'm sorry, baby, I'm so sorry . . ."_ It's crying, but this time, I don't feel what it feels. Not even a hint. _"I love you . . . now run!"_

"Lana," I say, even though I know the battle's lost. She's never coming back.

"That's the last time you'll ever touch me."

_"That's my girl! Run!"_

I bite back a curse at my weakness. Lana stalks toward the door, and I'm out of options. I fall back on threats. "Do you really think I could just let you walk away?"

"What are you going to do, Lex? Kill me? Because that's the only way you're gonna keep me in this mansion."

_"RUN LANA!"_

With that she leaves. And it's over.

I slow clap when she's gone, speaking aloud to my weakness for the first time. "Well done. You got rid of her."

_"Finally catching on, are you? I'm surprised you didn't see it coming sooner."_

"I have just one question. If you were trying to to get her to leave, why didn't you confess the truth about her pregnancy when you had the chance?"

_"She might have forgiven you."_

That's fair enough, considering everything Clark did to her. "You know, she was the one person keeping you alive since Clark broke off your friendship."

It's quiet for a moment before responding. _"Worth it."_

"That it was. I'll be rid of you soon enough, now."

 _"No, you won't,"_ it says, but it's feebler than I've ever heard it.

"You gave your life for hers. I hope you're happy."

If it is, I can't feel it. I can barely feel that it's even there.

I grin. With irony, I reflect that I've been using my weakness as a crutch, but at last, I don't need it anymore. I head over to my decanter and drink to being single again. The quiet is nice.


	6. Epilogue

My weakness has been quiet since Lana left me.

It's not dead. I can still feel it, just barely, but the few times I hear its voice, it sounds young, almost childlike. It's retreated to the back corners of my mind, which is fine. If it has to be there, that's where I'd prefer it to be.

Lana's taken to seeking revenge on me, and I'm not convinced she's much better off than she would have been if I never drove her away, though my weakness disagrees about that. Sometimes, after Lana does something to threaten my life, I think about taking her out, to defend myself. My weakness doesn't make much of a protest, but I'm not sure if it would let me do anything to hurt her any more than I already have.

When I consider hurting Clark, though, it pushes back hard. That's not surprising. It never could let go of its faith in Clark, no matter how many times Clark stabs me in the back. I'm going to have to convince my weakness that Clark is a real and genuine threat to others if I ever need to take him down, but for now, I'm happy with the level of control I have. I'm not afraid my weakness is going to take over again.

Granted, when Clark is around, it's still very much present. It doesn't speak so much as it listens and feels. It shrinks away from Clark's scolding and accusations, makes me feel the shame even when there's nothing to be ashamed of. There's usually venom in Clark's voice when he speaks to me, but I'm pretty sure a single kind word from him could wake up the weaker side of me entirely. Push me back into the shadows for a long, long time.

Given his track record, I can't say I'm worried.


End file.
